In the wreckage, we are all kings
by CxXxDarkWolf5xXxD
Summary: After a terrifying virus is unleashed upon the world, Dean and Castiel are thrown together in the search for a cure and a way to stay alive amongst the dead. Zombie AU. Dean/Cas.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:**In the wreckage, we are all kings. (Part 1/?)

**Author: **darkwolf5

**Pairings/characters: **Dean. Later Dean/Cas. Characters will be added as I go along to avoid spoiling the story.

**Rating: **This chapter** R** for gore.

**Warnings: **Blood, gore, violence, zombies. (This part) (Character death in later parts. Further warnings may be added.)

**Word count: **1474 this chapter.

**A/N: **A great big thanks to GlassBirdNoir, who beta read this! Seriously Glass, you rock! Anyway, this is a Zombie apocalypse AU, and I hope the twists and turns I throw in will keep you interested! I'm really proud of this and Glass really has improved it, so enjoy!

**Summary:**After a Deadly Virus is released upon the world, the few survivors must gather together if they wish to survive. Dean an ex-cop and Cas a seemingly normal man with a shocking secret fight their way through a city of enemies created by a virus that seems to have come from hell itself.

**In the wreckage, we are all kings. (Part 1/?)**

**Chapter one. **

The night was young, the sun setting slowly over the city, casting the broken buildings in red and orange. The shattered glass that littered the sidewalk glinted in the evening light, catching the bloody tones of the sky, a memory of what was once spilt into the gravel, fresh and warm from living bodies. Many of the stains were washed away when it rained, and it had been a while since the chaos now – although Dean wasn't quite sure how long, because it was surprisingly hard to keep track, but not all of them were gone, and the echoes were all too clear to those who still wondered these streets. Well, anyone _living_ anyway.

His hand was clutched tightly round the handle of his gun as he made his way through empty streets, litters of a long lost world clattering harmlessly along in the wind, random bits of paper and leaflets with now meaningless words. Every noise set Dean on edge; he was totally alert for any danger that could be hiding just out of view waiting to pounce. Everything sounded like the shuffle of feet and the rattling moans of the city's new population carrying themselves on the air. Dean shuddered, and he wanted to turn back, to hide until morning, but sometimes taking risks was necessary, and he was running out of supplies pretty damn fast. He shouldn't have left it so late.

He moved slowly, trying to keep out of the open as much as possible, his breathing steady and controlled. Suddenly, something shambled out of one of the buildings to his left, and he rapidly slammed himself up against the wall behind him, hand leaving the gun to grab his other weapon, a machete he'd managed to scavenge from a weapons shop. He had been lucky really – The only reason no one else had taken it was because it was still clasped tightly in the cold dead fingers of the store clerk. Of course, this was seemingly an age ago, back when they could afford to be squeamish.

The creature stumbled closer, eyes focused straight ahead, and Dean prayed to God, if he even existed, that the damn thing didn't turn its head, or sense him, smell him on the wind or whatever the hell it was they did. It walked past ridiculously close; Dean contemplated just letting it stumble on, 'till it found some other survivor to prey on. But something urged him onwards, maybe the thought that if someone did get killed by it then it would be _him_ the blame fell on, and the weight on his shoulders was heavy enough as it was, so instead he fell into step behind it, as silently as possible before bringing the blade rapidly upwards, and slamming it into the creature's neck, a splatter of dark gore spraying from the wound.

Dean knew he must have severed its vocal chords because it let out a strangled gurgle, red blood mixed with a black sort of congealed gunk oozing out of the gaping hole. The creature swung round to face him, teeth gnashing and dead eyes filled with a violent hunger. It reeked of decayed flesh and despite being used to the smell Dean almost gagged, the stench magnified tenfold so close to the loathsome creature.

He took a couple of steps back as the thing lurched forwards and brought the weapon up again, severing the thing's head with a second well aimed blow. Dean knew it would have been more sensible to smash the machete into its skull, instead of the time-and-strength consuming decapitation, but it wasn't worth the threat of the blade getting stuck. The last thing he needed was getting caught in the open by another, or, God forbid, even a hoard of them. It would have taken time he didn't have to free the weapon.

He took a few steps back away from the severed head, which was still trying to take a chunk from his leg, the grotesque face twisted into a scowl. The hunter let his foot descend on it, putting his weight into the action, so when his boot hit the skull it burst into a mess of gooey gunk, a sickening crunch resonating around the empty street, ensuring the creature would never harm anyone again. The hunter let out breath he hadn't even realised he was holding and turned to walk away, and it was only then he noticed there was something damp and sticky on his face. Raising his hand, he tentatively ran the back of it over his cheek, smearing whatever was splattered there into lines of accidental war paint. He looked at the back of his hand, and at the reddish liquid that stood out against pale skin, and shuddered.

"Aw gross..." He grimaced, as he made his way back into the shadows of the buildings that flanked him on either side, broken and menacing. Reaching into the small pack he carried with him, he found a relatively clean cloth. He wiped away the dead blood, reflecting on how lucky he was that it hadn't got into his eyes or mouth. The moment of insanity had passed, and the folly of his actions was clear. How could he have been so stupid? You don't engage in close combat unless you're God-damn _begging_ to be killed!

Still, he _was_ alive, and that was what mattered, really.

There were three useful looking shops; two to his left side and one on his right. He was on the right hand side of the street, which left him with one choice really, as crossing the street was a little dangerous, a little too open. He darted past a long broken shop window, letting himself glance inside the store – Just a clothes shop, dresses scattered everywhere, with blood stains smeared over the floor and then, further back, nothing but deep shadows, in which anything could be lurking.

In his mind, the shadows shifted into human forms as his mind flashed back to a brighter day, with happy shoppers and people enjoying their lives. In reality he knew _precisely_ what every shadow could be hiding, something feral and hungry, something deadly. He moved away from the window a lot faster after that thought.

His target wasn't anything huge, just a general store - something that might contain supplies, and as resources were so few and far between these days, you had to take what you could get, _whenever_ and _wherever_ you could get it. He checked through the glass door for any immediate danger, and decided it was probably worth the minimal risk, slipping through the entrance and into the aisles of the shop. The first thing that hit him was the smell, the heavy, rotten odour driving him to clamp a hand over his nose and mouth to filter out the cloying stench. He couldn't _see_ any blood or gore, but that didn't mean there wasn't something _waiting_, lurking in the dank corners where his eyesight couldn't reach. It could even have been the dead fruits left to decompose in their containers – But optimism was a luxury that had died with civilisation.

There was food in there, most of it looked off, although he couldn't resist checking the date on some of the nicer looking stuff, like cookies and junk food. He let out a small sigh, as the last pack of mouldy, sugary goodness dropped to the floor. No such luck, those days of easy, nice-tasting food were over. He ended up grabbing a pack of beef jerky – Of all the God-damn things he could've found, _beef jerky –_ along with a couple of tins he knew it was unlikely he would ever use. Fire, after all, wasn't exactly discrete.

A sudden clang reached the hunter's ear from further back in the store, maybe even from the back room, and he tensed immediately, ducking below the top of the shelf. There was a shuffle, like someone walking around, and then silence. Dean moved slowly to the edge of the aisle till his eyes locked on the shop counter, where he could see a trail of reddish brown that had smeared itself around the counter, and into the back room. Dean swallowed quietly, reaching for his weapon and backing away slowly, desperately trying not to alert whatever was there.

Suddenly, something warm and heavy impacted on the backs of his legs. Dean swung his head around, stumbling a little, as a hand grabbed at the collar of his shirt, and his eyes darted upwards just in time to see blood smeared fingers clutched tightly around a heavy looking object descending, smashing hard into his skull. He heard a quiet answering moan to his grunt of pain from somewhere in the store room, and knew he wasn't going to wake up.

**End of part one.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: ** In the wreckage, we are all kings. (part 2/?)

**Author: ** darkwolf5

**Rating: ** R for some language and quite a bit of gore. (This part, rating may be higher in later chapters.)

**Pairing/characters: **Dean, Cas. Eventual Dean/Cas, new characters will be added as the story progresses so I don't spoil it for you.

**Word count: **3224 this chapter.

**Warnings: **Violence and gore, swearing. Sexual content in later parts. (Will be character deaths later in the story.)

**A/N: **Thanks again to GlassBirdNoir for beta reading this.

**Summary: **After a Deadly Virus is released upon the world, the few survivors must gather together if they wish to survive. Dean, an ex-cop and Cas, a seemingly normal man with a shocking secret fight their way through a city of enemies, created by a virus that seems to have come from Hell itself.

**Chapter two.**

_The tortured moans and groans of the zombies around him started to disintegrate, the hospital's tube lights flickering, and the world shuddering, as his dead friend lunged in for the kill -_

"Wake up." Dean's eyes snapped open, blinking rapidly in the dull, yellow light, as he tried to clear his head of the numbing fuzz of sleep. Twin clear, blue eyes were scant inches from his face sending a jolt of shock through him, causing him to let out a startled yelp, bodily hurling himself backwards - Only to collide heavily with the wall of the cluttered room. Dean took in every feature with a trained eye, quickly trying to judge the fastest and safest way to escape. Across the room, shelves lay in disarray, most of the boxes open, their contents scattered on the floor, and one of the two metal shelving units had fallen to lean against its twin. The door was behind most of the junk, almost like someone had constructed a half hearted barricade at one point. Shit - so much for an easy escape.

"Stay still." The warm, gravelly voice snapped Dean's attention to the man in front of him, and he swallowed heavily, trying to move his arms from underneath him, only to find them bound tightly together, with plastic ties cutting painfully into his skin. He growled in frustration, struggling in vain against them, before realising that if he kept at it, the most he was going to achieve would be peeling the skin off his wrists.

"Let me go, you son of a bitch!" He lashed out with his feet, only for his captor to dodge skilfully, letting out a sigh and moving back a few steps. He looked tired and exasperated, as if he couldn't quite believe he was bothering with Dean at all.

"Please calm down, I'm not going to hurt you, the ties are simply a precaution." He said quietly. Dean quickly noted that the other man was a different build to him, both leaner and skinnier. At least that meant that he'd have an advantage if things boiled down to hand to hand combat – Assuming, of course, he ever managed to get his wrists free. Lamps (presumably battery powered) sat in the corners of the room casting eerie shadows over the other man's face, making him look far more sinister then he probably would otherwise. "I wasn't sure whether you were infected, and I didn't think you would appreciate me stripping you down to check for bites."

"Y' know, considering you were the one covered in blood a minute ago, if either of us is Infected, it's probably you! Who the hell _are_ you anyway?" Dean glared defiantly at the other man, in an imitation of his little brother's "Bitch-face", almost as if he believed glaring at him could somehow cause actual damage – But Hell, it was worth a try. After all, the dead were walking, even if there weren't yet pigs flying.

"My name is Castiel. I am sorry for hurting you, but you looked familiar and... I suppose I was curious, and the only way I could be sure you wouldn't attack was to tie you up. It is nice to see another living being. I'm not Infected, you have nothing to fear from me." Castiel stooped down to Dean's level, reaching forward tentatively to touch the cut on Dean's head, an attempt to doctor the sticky trail of blood that slashed a stark, red line through the skin of his face. He was forced to pull his hand back, however, when Dean flinched away violently. "Do you feel any dizziness or nausea?"

"Dude, you knocked me out and tied me up because I _reminded you of someone_! Would it kill you to just _ask_ me, and then knock me unconscious IF I attacked! Jesus." Dean looked away from Castiel, mild anger bubbling through his veins. "And I'm fine, I'm not Infected, if that's why you're asking, so let me _go_."

"You're lucky, at worst you have a mild concussion, although I would be careful to try and keep infected blood away from your cut." Castiel seemed to consider Dean's request for freedom for a second, and then nodded tightly, features hardening. He looked, for a second, Dean thought, quite terrifying. "I hope for your sake you are telling the truth, because I will not hesitate to kill you if I have to." The guy shoved Dean away from the wall, so he could better reach Dean's restraints. He immediately tensed up when Castiel withdrew a knife from a pocket of the ridiculous-looking coat he was wearing, the blade catching the light and glinting menacingly. Castiel simply sliced through the cable ties, discarding them over his shoulder, before standing up and moving away, so as to have a better view of Dean. "What's your name?"

Dean stood up slowly, bringing his wrists around to his front, rubbing the sore skin there as he tried to get some circulation back into his hands. "So what, _now _we get to the pleasantries? My name's Dean." It wasn't like names mattered any more anyway, so lying would be pointless – 'Dean Winchester, son of John Winchester, brother of Sam Winchester', somehow held so much more weight than 'Dean Winchester, son of that there corpse, and probably brother of one too.' The green eyed man surveyed Castiel, whose ruffled black hair was sticking up at odd angles, blood drying it into spikes, creating a bizarre contrast between cute and disgusting. The guys clothes were relatively clean though, giving Dean a feeling he'd been out of it long enough for Castiel to get changed. "What's with all the blood?"

"I got into a fight with the Infected and it went badly. I wasn't bitten but I... it was close." Castiel looked away, with something in his facial expression saying he was hiding something. He looked upset too, and Dean's cause for concern doubled. It went badly, yet he wasn't bitten? Then what the hell did 'went badly' mean? Shit... he needed to get out of here _now_, the guy was weird, and a little bit creepy, and possibly insane and/or Infected. Even as he was thinking it though, he felt a pang of pity for the guy. He knew it was stupid, but you didn't look that distraught over nothing. The last time he remembered feeling anything that'd give him cause to look like that was when the phone lines cut out, and he lost contact with his brother...

"Right, well, excuse me for being a little, uh...disbelieving, but I'm gonna go now, and if you follow me, I'm not above shooting you, so..." He was bluffing, of course he was, and it wasn't like he could in good conscience shoot unless Castiel attacked him, but it was easier if Castiel didn't know that.

Dean budged past Castiel, moving towards the door, only to feel a warm hand fixing its fingers round his arm. He tried to tug away. "Let me go."

"Wait, please, I need to tell you something, it's _important_." Wide blue eyes stared up at Dean, panic flooding Castiel's features.

"Look man, I'm sorry, but I have my own problems." Sparks of anger flickered back into life, and Dean shoved lightly at the guy, attempting to dislodge him whilst slowly trying to move closer to the exit. If anything, Castiel's grip tightened.

"You don't understand, I did not come all this way just for you to fuck off, I need your –"

"I said let _go_!" Dean pushed Castiel away, using more force than he had meant to in his anger, and Castiel's eyes widened with shock as he went sprawling back across the floor, head colliding with the sharp metal edge of one of the shelving units. Dean swallowed; he really hadn't meant to do that. He took a few steps towards the other man, guilt welling up. Castiel had only wanted help, and although Dean knew you couldn't trust anyone any more, he still couldn't help but think that Castiel was genuine, and probably telling the truth. "Castiel? ...Cas?"

A drop of crimson hit the ground under Castiel's head, a bright stain against the white background. There was something different about Castiel something that made Dean want to help, but if he was infected and Dean had just... If he'd just killed the guy, he would come back soon but... What if he'd just killed someone uninfected? That would just be murder, no ifs or buts, no nothing. Jesus Christ. Dean turned, clambering over the mess in the room and towards the door, grabbing his bag on the way out. Running away from another person who'd gotten hurt because of him.

xxXxx

The scene outside the store room was horrific, the bodies lying mangled and disfigured, staring unseeingly at the ceiling with rotting eyes still discoloured and diluted with the Infection, parts of the sight lighting up all to clearly in the light of the flashlight he had pulled from his bag,

Dean shuffled past them and away from the counter. At least now he had an explanation for the stench that had been so overpowering earlier. He heard a small barely audible splash and looked down. Blood. He was stepping in the blood, and there was a surprising amount except...Well, not really, not considering the condition of a couple of the bodies. The last one looked like it had been hacked at with a blade, probably Castiel's, and the others had been shot, most of the blood leaking from the wounds that had killed them the first time around. It was rare to see fresh undead now, but every time he saw one a little part of him was crushed. It made it just a little more obvious that there was no coming back from this, and that the world was slowly giving out under the weight of the Infection.

There was one body that seemed different from the rest, and it caught Deans attention. As morbid as the sight was, it was arranged almost _respectfully_, eyelids closed. The only injuries he could see consisted of a bite mark on the left shoulder, an attack from behind probably, and a gunshot wound that left grey matter hanging out of the back of the Infected's skull. Dean shuddered. So that was how it had gone badly. _That_ was why Cas was so upset – The guy had obviously lost a friend or something, and, judging by the small crucifix set on a thin silver chain that had been placed on the bodies chest, that glittered faintly in the yellow beam of light, probably someone important... His mind flashed back to the blood leaking out of Castiel's head. He itched to go back and help, but he remained stationary. He couldn't bear to face the truth – That if there wasn't a member of the Infected there and just a dead body, well yeah, he had enough blood on his hands to last a million lifetimes, and he just couldn't _take _any more. And what was his alternative? Going back to assuage his guilt for a life wrongly taken by taking that same life a _second_ time if Castiel had been infected?

He looked away instead, choosing to scan the shop for anything that was going to try and eat him, the shadows swarming inky black around him wherever the flashlight couldn't reach, the darkness surprisingly thick when there were no street lights – Anything could be buried in them, waiting to claw their way towards him. He shuddered, ignoring the itching sense of paranoia that he could never totally destroy.

While he was out of it, the night had taken hold completely, and when Dean finally stumbled away from the shop and out into the cool night air, it became obvious that tonight, even the stars were hidden behind thick clouds, affording him no light. No wonder it was so dark. He pulled his jacket tighter around him before shoving the small flashlight between his teeth so he could grab his gloves out of his bag, one of the last remaining shreds of his old uniform. They were fingerless, which, although it allowed him greater dexterity, made them half useless against the cold, but they would have to do.

Jogging away along the edge of the street, he gave the dark shop one last glance before disappearing down a side alley in search of a relatively safe place to stay the night, if he could find one.

xxXxx

Castiel let out a stuttered moan of pain, his head throbbing, every sound too _loud,_ sending shots of bright piercing pain shooting through his skull. He was almost unaware as to what could possibly have startled him into the land of the living, until a noise caught his attention, a wheezing sort of groan that he had only ever heard one creature make.

"Michael?" His mind immediately jumped to his brothers safety, before a realization that Michael wasn't coming back shoved itself into his mind, fresh waves of loss closely following the thought. He didn't have to warn his brother any more, he was the only one left. He couldn't dwell on it though, he had to get out of here.

His eyes fluttered, open hand clumsily reaching for his knife, as he pulled himself into a sitting position. A wave of dizziness and nausea forced him to pause, the threat of blacking out again rearing its ugly head. If there was something here, and _close,_ he couldn't pass out, it would mean his death. Fear was a strong motivator, and Castiel fought against the pain in his head.

He pulled himself to his feet, the clang of something falling from the shelves seeming far too loud. His vision was swimming, his mild panic only serving to further worsen his situation. He couldn't see anything dead or hungry in the room, but he could hear something somewhere, and it was close, somewhere just out of vision. Using the shelf as support he made his way out of the room, heart beating slightly faster than normal, knife held out at the ready. He was well aware that he was in no condition to fight, but at least he felt _safer_ with the blade.

The bodies were still where he had left them. He probably should have burned them, but surely even the undead deserved at least _some_ respect? They were people once after all. The worst by far though was Michael. Castiel couldn't bring himself to retrieve the gun that lay beside him, not the same one that had taken the life of his brother. Caught as he was in his thoughts, it took him a second to realize that there was something in-between the shelves – _Something moving towards him. _Castiel tensed, his thoughts unsettlingly disorganized, surely due to the head injury. Karma was a bitch.

The thing was getting steadily closer, and he moved away from the shambling creature and its blood stained teeth. It would have been easy enough to skirt around it, except Castiel could not shake the feeling that something was wrong. His breathing was heavy, and he started taking small steps backwards, readying himself to run, when another one attacked without warning from the other side of the store, probably attracted by his scent, or some other sense the Infected seemed to gain along with their uncontrollable urge to tear apart the living.

Castiel yelped, tugging away from it, his fast movements serving only to make the room rock around him, like a nightmare where he just couldn't _focus. _He realized all too late that making noise would only make things worse, more of the creatures would hear him and more would come, that's how it always worked.

As the second creature let out a rasping rattle of a groan, Castiel threw himself away from them both, managing to skirt around the first as he rushed towards the door, the hollow, empty moans of the dead creature ringing in his ears. More of the creatures replied, sensing the hunt. Castiel practically fell out of the door, slashing the knife around in front of him as a wild precaution. It was almost morning, and the faint light of sunrise was filtering through the clouds making it easier to see. He was at least thankful for that.

The things kept coming, never stopping in their advances and he realised he needed to get somewhere safe, and quickly. He started running as best he could down the road, every smack of his feet on the grey tarmac felt like it was causing his brain to rattle around in his skull, the road wasn't the straightest of lines and he had no idea where he was going. On top of that, the undead were funnelling from alleyways and slowly gathering behind him, the first few starting to funnel out in front of him, cutting him off from any hope of escape.

Scanning the surroundings, Castiel desperately tried to see a way out. His only real option seemed to be a fire escape on one of the nearby buildings, but that would leave him stranded high up, and if something was in the building then it could come at him through the window. Unfortunately it seemed to be that, or the creatures crowding around him. There were so many, some were fresh, still leaking blood from bite wounds, while others were falling to pieces, rotting flesh practically hanging from their bones.

He swerved, weaving a shaky line towards his only hope of safety. The ladder on the fire escape was pulled up, but there was a dumpster almost directly beneath it. Despite the fact that the last thing Castiel wanted to do was climb, it was his only chance, so he gathered his last reserves of energy and clambered up onto the top of the grey plastic, slippery beneath his fingers, almost losing grip several times, and at one point almost impaling himself with his own knife, which was more of a hindrance than a help now.

The Infected swarmed beneath him, crowding up against the dumpster, desperate for his flesh. He had to move _faster_, had to get away from here. Castiel's breathing was becoming fast and panicked as he scrambled for the fire escape ladder, inhaling more of the ever-present stench of carrion, made so much worse by the violent horde at his feet, as he tugged violently at the metal bars, which wouldn't budge. The ladder was stuck, and rotting fingers were tangling themselves into his tan coat, trying to pull him backwards into the sea of gnashing teeth. He finally gave up on the ladder in favour of shrugging his beloved coat off his shoulders, half-watching as it disappeared into the crowd, with a strong sense of hopelessness welling up inside him as he tried to pull himself up onto the fire escape, kicking at the rotting dead beneath his feet.

Castiel cursed and yelled at the creatures, dizziness making his movements clumsy, making it so much harder to get away from them. He knew yelling for help was useless, there was after all, no one left to help. He was all on his own. Castiel growled in frustration and anger. If he hadn't been so stupid, and trusted a stranger just because... Because of _sentimental_ reasons, he might not be stranded, all alone, with the crushing realization he was going to die.

**End of Part 2.**

Reviews are like fuel to my writing brain! ...Constructive criticism is always welcome!


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **In the wreckage, we are all kings. (Part 3/?)

**Author: **Darkwolf5

**Rating: PG**-13/R this part for gore and swearing. May be higher in later parts.

**Pairings/Characters:** Dean/Cas. (Characters will be added along the way to avoid spoiling the story for you.)

**Warnings: **Gore, violence, Character Deaths in later parts.

**Word count: **3264

**A/N: **Thanks to GlassBirdNoir for the Beta read, and to everyone who has reviewed so far!

**Summary: **After a Deadly sickness is released upon the world, the few survivors must gather together if they wish to survive. Dean, an ex-cop and Cas, a seemingly normal man with a shocking secret, fight their way through a city of enemies created by a virus that seems to have come from Hell itself.

**Chapter three. **

Dean woke up to the sound of screaming, just like he always did, but there was something distinctly _different_ about it this time something that had him up and awake in a few seconds flat, pulling himself from the corner of the small building he'd taken refuge in. It didn't take him more than a moment to realise that the panicked shouts for help were very real, and maybe not the screams he'd heard in that hospital, but still just as desperate.

And familiar.

The voice was hoarse from shouting but definitely recognisable, even if he couldn't quite place it to a face except... except he _could_, and it could just be hopefulness, but it sounded a lot like the man he'd killed, except very much alive and very much in danger. Dean's mind whirred into action, the strategic side fighting violently against the emotional side, logic trying to force it's way in over blind, sentimental stupidity. He couldn't help, he didn't even know what was going on, and he'd be damned if just ran into a hoard. Except, well, he _did _owe the guy something, and hell, if anything it was probably his freakin' fault the guy was in trouble. Dammit.

He ran fast, bag slung over his shoulder, gloves still pulled over his hands, the chilly air stinging his skin, the temperature having dropped overnight. He followed the noise, swinging around corners and hoping for the best, the noises of the undead flooding his senses even as his survival instincts _screamed_ at him to run in the opposite direction. He fumbled at his bag, trying in vain to pull out his machete, his hand instead closing over the solid handle of his gun. He blinked and then growled, fuck it, he'd probably need the damn thing.

He skidded to a halt when the street he was looking for finally came into view. Castiel was struggling to escape the grotesque, animated corpses below him. There were too many to kill if you were by yourself, at least a dozen or so. Even more were being steadily drawn to the scene, but an escapable amount if you were clever enough. Although maybe Castiel wasn't thinking clearly because of his head wound, so yeah, that probably made the fact that the guy wasn't hot-footing it away by now his fault, hell, for all he knew, the poor dude was seeing double. Now that would be **really** fucking terrifying.

He looked at the gun clutched tightly in his hand, and then up again to the Infected, and quickly made up his mind, face hardening. He bought the gun up and pulled the trigger. The first bullet came too low, shattering one of the creature's collarbone, making a hell of a noise as it went. He'd almost forgotten how loud gunshots were, even though the streets used to be full of them.

A few of the undead lurched around, sensing easier prey as they fixed their bloodshot eyes on Dean. The one with the shattered collar bone's head lolled slightly to the side in what could be mistaken for a gesture of pain or shock, but was merely caused by the hammer-blow impact of the bullet, and the weakened muscles of the neck. It was the closest monster to him and with a certain measure of carefully cultivated detachment he shot again, watching its brain splatter onto the others. The others remained oblivious to the loss of one of their mass, too busy craving blood to notice, much less care. He needed to get Cas out quickly, because this could get so much worse.

He took out a couple more with carefully placed headshots, watching them crumple in a bloody mess. The wheezing, rattling gasp of the creatures closest made Dean shudder, one getting close enough that its breath puffed warm and rancid into his face. He kicked hard at it, sending it flying spread-eagled backwards into the others. He could hear moans arising all over the city, flashes of teeth and blood and tearing flesh at the front of his mind as he charged through the crowd, managing to grab the machete out of his bag.

He looked up in time to see Castiel leaping off of the bin, arms stretched out in front of him as he smashed a knife into one of the Infected's skull, blood splattering his pale face. So the guy wasn't completely useless then, and now that Dean had scattered the hoard, he had obviously deemed it safe to fight. For someone who was stumbling all over the place thanks to a concussion, Castiel was pretty agile as he pushed the body away. Dean shoved his gun back into his bag. He'd put it in its holster later, but right now he was preoccupied by running through the slowly increasing crowd. Every time he killed one, another seemed to appear in its place, although it wasn't as bad as some of the worst hoards he had seen, nowhere near as bad.

He swung his machete with adrenaline fuelled force, surprising himself as he decapitated a fresh looking corpse which fell out of the way, finally allowing him to reach Castiel, who, though holding his own, didn't actually seem to be _killing_ anything, except for the first one. His head snapped around, blue eyes full of panic.

"You came back?" Dean could hear the question in Castiel's voice but ignored it, instead using his spare hand to grab the arm of Castiel's shirt.

"Not really the time for talking!" Dean shouted, Castiel made a surprised noise as Dean yanked him out of the way of decayed yellow teeth. "But definitely the time to run!"

Castiel yelped as dean practically dragged him, half running, away from the hoard, which just wouldn't stop coming. They never would. As long as Dean and Cas were in their sights they would always be just behind them, never stopping, never slowing, never ending. Dean tugged Castiel, who was looking increasingly disorientated but was at least keeping up, around a corner and into an alleyway, praying they wouldn't come across any more that could set the alarm off for the others.

He kicked in a doorway to some building, apartments or something, trying to escape their sights just as the first of the Infected fell around the corner. It was one of the older ones, a few strands of greasy black hair hanging around a once female face, rotting flesh falling away in a flap to expose it's teeth and jawbone. He chose better than to go into the building that might just contain a dead end, or lead straight back out into the bulk of the hoard. Instead he shoved Castiel towards the chain link fence that split the alleyway in half.

"Over, now!" The man looked like he was going to protest, but then started scrambling over the fence, Dean quick to follow. It was back to running then, as Dean knew the fence wouldn't hold them off for long. He didn't keep track of how long they were running for, but when Dean finally stopped to gasp for breath, leaning with his back against the brick wall of a derelict building, the promise of Death had been far outrun, just about.

"Jesus." He looked up at Cas. "You sure know how to get yourself into trouble huh? First you're knocking out strangers, then you almost get eaten by zombies..."

Castiel tilted his head looking mildly surprised. "I haven't heard anyone actually call them that before..."

"What, zombies? Well, it's what they are isn't it? Why bother with all the crap calling them the Undead and the Infected?"

"I suppose so. I – Thank you, for helping me." Castiel said quietly, looking nervous, ridiculously thankful and completely sincere. "Most people wouldn't bother."

"Yeah, well." Dean cleared his throat as he looked away, the situation far too emotional for him, far too intimate, which was – Well. He just wasn't the emotional sort. "Just don't get used to it."

"Of course." Castiel nodded, a nervous smile etched into his features. "I suppose you will be going on your way then?"

"Well yeah, but you should stick with me for a bit Cas, you probably have a nasty concussion and I'd be pretty pissed off if I saved you and then you went and got yourself killed anyway", Dean gabbled. Castiel had the sense to look surprised. People just didn't trust strangers any more – _Couldn't_ trust strangers any more – and Dean knew the fact that they had both hurt each other already probably didn't help, but Castiel didn't seem against the idea, and Dean _did_ want to check that head wound. He knew some basic first aid from his time with the police force, and something would be better than nothing, he supposed. "If you want to, I mean, just - Well, don't be a dick, 'cause the minute you piss me off, I'm leaving you behind."

"Of course. I will try not to be an inconvenience, and it will certainly be better than travelling alone." Cas nodded. He looked slightly curious about the nickname Dean had given him, but otherwise said nothing. Dean knew coming from someone else 's mouth, Castiel's words would have been sarcastic, but Cas always sounded like he meant everything, and who the hell spoke so formally all the time anyway?

"Awesome. Let's go then, before our fans find out where we're hiding." Dean pulled himself away from the wall and nodded down the street before setting off at a fast pace, leaving Castiel to stumble after him.

xxXxx

Dean spent most of the daylight hours both keeping an eye on Cas and scavenging, the pair only exchanging a few words, sensing the need for silence. As much as he wanted to make sure there was no serious damage caused to Cas, the light was just too precious to waste, so when they finally came to rest under a bridge, its concrete walls stretching out either side of them, sprayed with names and graffiti from a long lost era, Dean was itching to check the wound.

Dean had lit a small fire he had created out of anything he could find that wasn't explosive – Well, wasn't _too_ explosive. As unsafe as it was the bridge would at least keep the warm little beacon relatively well hidden. Castiel was staring at Dean from across the fire and it was starting to get a little creepy. The guy hardly ever seemed to blink, and it was starting to feel like a overly long staring contest. Dean let his eyes drift to the warm tongues of flame which licked at the air, shaded like autumn leaves and hot as the summer sun.

"How's your head?" Dean asked, poking at the flames with a stick trying to avoid the fact he'd caused the damage in the first place.

"Fine." Castiel said not breaking his gaze away from Dean.

"Says the guy who can't walk in a straight line." Dean said, raising his eyebrows. "Let me have a look, Go on, humour me."

"I suppose that would be okay, but I assure you I'm fine. I heal quickly, although the dizziness is somewhat unpleasant." Castiel watched Dean approach, walking a full hundred and eighty degrees around the fire, Dean kneeled down behind the other man, threading his fingers surprisingly gently through the ruffled hair, until he found the place Cas had hit the shelf. Castiel hissed in pain, pulling away slightly. There was dried blood still sticking the hair together around the cut, more thickly than anywhere else, but the cut had sealed itself up and was scabbing over. Dean pressed lightly on the wound, which made Castiel jerk away violently and let out a noise of protest, but Dean couldn't feel any damage under the skin, although he wasn't entirely sure what he was looking for anyway, or what he would do if the damage** was **bad.

"Doesn't seem that serious, I guess you're good to go." Dean said, pulling himself away from Cas, and returning to his place on the other side of the fire. "Well, you will be once the other symptoms are gone. You're pretty lucky."

"Not really."

Dean opened his mouth to ask what Cas meant, but then thought better of it. He barely knew the guy and he really didn't want to push him, or worse, cause a fight.

"Yeah, right." Awk-ward, _very_ awkward. "Well just don't do anything stupid, I've heard concussions can be pretty crappy."

"I'm aware of the basic symptoms, it wouldn't be the first time I've had a concussion." Castiel said, with another of his half smiles, most of which always looked sad, not bitter though, they never looked bitter – And why had he already catalogued the guy's Goddamned _grins_ after knowing him all of a few hours? "I had a very bad experience when my brother tried to teach me baseball, which, it seems, is not my game."

"You'd like Sammy, he was awful at batting , couldn't hit a ball if you paid him..." Dean swallowed, unsure why he'd volunteered that piece of information. Maybe it was because Cas was opening up, probably due to the concussion... And now he was thinking about Sam. Shit. Castiel had noticed Dean's sudden silence and was looking sympathetic, which was the last thing Dean wanted. He huffed in annoyance and glared at Cas. "What? Is there something on my face?"

"Sammy was your brother? Michael was always amazing with a bat. He could hit every ball thrown at him, unfortunately he didn't have a habit of looking at what was behind him before he swung his bat." Castiel looked at the dirt floor looking infinitely sad. "I travelled with him for a long time but – he..."

Castiel swallowed, eyes looking slightly wet before he seemed to shake it off, his features settling into an emotionless mask that Dean noticed he seemed to have perfected – It was too soon, too _sudden_, to be real. "You should sleep, I will keep watch."

"I'm not really very tired all of a sudden." Dean said, his thoughts elsewhere. It was true. If he slept now, his nightmares would only be worse than usual. "This is like one long fucking nightmare, sometimes I wonder if there's even any point in fighting." The last sentence was more of a thought voiced out loud – Hell, the way Dean was acting, you would think he was the one with concussion, but then he found it surprisingly easy to let out things he wouldn't normally say with Castiel, who was just looking at him, expression unreadable. He wondered whether it was because Castiel was so open with him, or just because it had been so long since he'd spoken to another human being.

They sat in silence, just watching the fire burn itself out to the embers, until they were both drenched in darkness, and Dean felt himself drifting involuntarily into sleep. His eyelids were growing heavier by the second, it wouldn't do him any good not having a clear head because of lack of sleep anyway, he reasoned.

The last thing Dean heard before sleep claimed him was Castiel's quiet whisper of "I think I understand how you feel."

xxXxx

Castiel was gone when Dean woke up, and Dean would always be embarrassed to admit he panicked a bit, first of all scrambling to check his bags hadn't been stolen, and then rushing to find Cas, worried the guy had wandered off and gotten himself hurt. It wasn't like he was unaware of the fact that some people didn't like travelling with others, but it was nice to have someone around, even if your conversations always ended in awkward silence.

"Cas?" He grabbed his bag, staring around himself, looking back at the bulk of the city they'd been hiding in the outskirts of, then over the river and along both of the dry, dusty mud banks.

"Over here." Dean swung around, only to see Castiel standing at the edge of the bridge over the river, looking ,if Dean was honest, a little over dramatic and strangely ethereal in the morning light, his eyes shut and his head tilted up towards the sun. Not that Dean thought like that, ever.

"What the hell are you doing up there?" Dean jogged up to stand next to Cas, the two of them separated by the metal railing. Both of Cas's hands were wrapped tightly round the cool metal behind him, his feet barely holding on to the bridge's edge. Dean groaned in exasperated frustration. Why the fuck did he always get stuck with the weird ones? He tried to sound as angry as he could, but instead, his words just came out as mild annoyance. "Dude, seriously, get away from the edge, and really, what the hell, there's hardly any cover up here. Are you _trying _to get us both killed?"

"No I – I needed some air." Castiel said, blue eyes fluttering open. He inclined his head to look at Dean. "I don't think we're in danger, I couldn't see anything."

"And what, that other air wasn't good enough for you?" Dean said, glancing over the edge of the bridge. It was a surprisingly long drop to the bottom. It hadn't seemed it when he'd been underneath the thing, but then, he wasn't exactly the best with heights.

"I just – I like it up here, it helps me to keep my head clear. I have been thinking, and I don't know why I didn't tell you yesterday, but my thoughts were elsewhere... I do have something important to tell you."

"Important?" Castiel had Dean's full attention now, not that he hadn't from the start of this conversation.

"Yes. I wasn't travelling alone. My brother, the one I was telling you about, he – There is a research facility, it's a military thing I think, that's where we were heading." Castiel looked down at the river below, fingers loosening a little, and the very thought of the other man falling, or he himself falling, sent Dean's stomach into somersaults. "It's where all of this started."

"Why is that important, I mean, how does that _help _anything?" Dean moved as close as he could to the railing, ready to catch Castiel if he slipped, and to make sure he didn't miss anything the other man said.

"There is a cure." Deans eyes widened, hope bubbling up in his stomach. "Might be a cure, anyway, if it wasn't destroyed. I think it was only ever intended as a backup plan, for if anything went wrong."

"But there's a chance?" Deans mind buzzed with emotions, even if Sammy _was _infected, if he had the cure then maybe, just _maybe_ he could save him, and others he came across. Maybe this apocalypse wasn't the end after all. He tried to push down the hope. It _was _only a chance after all, and with Dean Winchester around, things usually turned out for the worse.

"Yes. A chance." Castiel tilted his head back towards the pale sun. "I suppose what I'm trying to say is come with me, help me find the cure."

"And if there isn't one?"

"Then we _make_ one. We know the virus has weaknesses, we only need to find them. They will undoubtedly have the notes saved on a database. Miracles are still possible."" Castiel turned, staring straight into Dean's doubtful eyes. "Good things _do_ happen Dean. "

**End of part 3**

**A/N 2: **Reviews are like fuel to me! Constructive criticism is very welcome!


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: **In the wreckage, we are all kings. (Part 4/?)

**Author: **darkwolf5

**Rating: **R for gore, violence and swearing

**Warnings: **Character Death in later parts, Blood gore violence swearing.

**Pairings/characters: **Dean, Cas. Characters will be added and removed as the story progresses so as to avoid spoiling it. Will be Dean/Cas, Dean/Cas undertones

**Wordcount: **3487 ish

**A/N: **Thanks to Glass for the Beta read. This chapter is horribly horribly late I know and for that I apologize.

**Summary:** After a Deadly sickness is released upon the world, the few survivors must gather together if they wish to survive. Dean an ex-cop and Cas, a seemingly normal man with a shocking secret, fight their way through a city of enemies created by a virus that seems to have come from Hell itself.

**Chapter 4.**

The sun stood pale and sickly against an almost unbroken background of clear, oceanic blue. Wisps of smoke-like cloud drifted across the sky, like the acrid gas heralding the decease of a fire. Thin rays of heat wormed their way down towards the ground, fanning out, working in vain against the chill that had settled overnight. It was a nice change from the normally overpowering heat.

Castiel climbed back over the railing, wobbling slightly and making Dean's stomach lurch violently, giving him the irrational and nearly uncontrollable urge to grab Castiel and tug him over the damn thing himself. That probably wouldn't go down too well though.

"Look around us Cas. There aren't exactly many good things happening lately, so I _really_ hope you're right ..." The last thing he needed was more disappointment. He could still remember when he first started his search, right at the beginning of this whole damn thing, a cloth over his mouth as he trawled through countless dorm rooms searching for his brother, and only finding the dead, with their accompanying stench. There wasn't a body though, so he guessed that was something, everything had gone downhill from there, a string of disappointments.

"I am almost certain. We only need to head away from the city and - Do you hear that?" Castiel stopped suddenly, tilting his head slightly to the side, like he was trying to focus on some sound inaudible to Dean, before he spun around, eyes locking onto the distance over the bridge heading away from the city.

"Cas, what's wrong?" The other man glanced over upon hearing Dean's question, and nodded towards the direction he'd fixated upon.

"Listen." Cas said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, like Dean should already know what the in the _hell _the guy was talking about except... There _was_ something, he realised, an annoying rumble just loud enough to be audible, and he knew that sort of a noise anywhere. That was the growl of an engine – No, _engines_, plural.

"We should get off the road, _right_ now." Dean knew what engines meant, they meant other survivors, and most weren't as kind as Cas or even he himself. They didn't bother taking any risks with the possibility of infection, they shot on sight. He'd seen it before, and he sure as hell didn't want to get caught in the firing line.

"They might be going in our direction." Even as Castiel said it, he looked doubtful. The vehicles were drawing nearer along the road into the city. Dean grabbed Castiel's arm, as Cas gave one last, longing glance towards the Jeeps. "You need to get your supplies..."

Dean nodded, before they both set off at a rapid jog. Dean skidded under the bridge, grabbing his bag. He would like to think they could just stay there under the thick concrete, but he knew that the people would not only have probably seen them, but running water was the best you got when it came to washing, and that no-one was too hot on the "Sharing" thing anymore.

The procession was quickly approaching. Any second, a group of hardened zombie hunters with the eyes of an eagle and a hatred for potential Infected would descend upon them.

"We need to move _– now_." It was odd hearing Castiel, who, up till had now seemed relatively quiet and submissive, give a command.

"Yeah, I kinda got that already, Cas." Dean scanned the river bank in both directions, looking for cover. It was relatively clear, they were in the suburbs, which meant there were quite a few houses scattered around - It was just _getting_ to one that was the problem.

Then it dawned on him - If he remembered correctly, there was a pretty nasty pileup of cars on the road into the city. It would give them cover from any possible attack if they could get there quickly. It was probably the best option they had. They would have to worry about cures and research facilities later.

"Cas, follow my lead. There's a pile up on the road. We can use it for cover if they open fire, let's just hope our friends aren't in the mood to waste bullets..." He said, speeding back to where Cas was standing at the very edge of the bridge's cover.

"Of course. You seem so certain they'll start shooting." Cas murmured, following Dean out into the range of the survivors, the possibly deadly range. Dean swore to God, every time life started to calm down, it just threw another goddamn death trap at him...

"Yeah well, you can never be too careful, Cas..." The bullets started coming maybe half a minute after they stepped into the open. Dean didn't look back, he just kept running, Castiel's footsteps fast and surprisingly light behind him. The bullets whizzed past. Whoever was firing had (Thankfully) relatively bad aim. Sons of bitches, wasting ammo so blatantly. They were idiots, how the hell had they survived this long? He heard the screech of tyres as the Jeeps skidded to a halt, and he couldn't help but take one quick glance back.

A beer bottle fell from the front Jeep to smash onto the floor - Well, that fucking explained it, then.

Good freakin' job as well, meant the guys aim was about as good as not there... the man who was doing most the shooting was hanging half out of the window, and right now Cas was right in the guy's firing line. Even taking into account the fact that the survivor's aiming ability, it'd just take one lucky shot, and goodbye Cas.

He reacted on instinct at the sound of a gunshot, throwing himself at Cas, leaving them in a tangled heap on the floor, Castiel a warm weight beneath him. He was vaguely aware of something hitting his leg, and a whoop of success from the guy with the gun (Bastard). Only a few more metres, and they would be half safe. Only a few...more... And then Cas was pulling himself out from under Dean, and scrambling onto his feet. Dean heard the other man curse, and the next thing he knew, he was being half dragged and half thrown behind one of the cars, Cas close behind him, showing surprising strength for his smaller frame.

He heard a few bullets hit the metal that separated them from death. Castiel was staring at him again, this time his expression one of barely concealed worry. It took a few seconds for the events to catch up with Dean before he got it, looking down at his leg, and the bloody tear in his trousers where the bullet had penetrated.

"Shit." His head thumped backwards onto the rusted husk of a car he was leaning against, a growl of frustration tearing itself from his throat, "_S__hit."_

"The wound needs to be bandaged. I can't do much more if the bullet is still in there, but I know how to..." Castiel moved forward, his speech trailing off. Any panic he may be suffering only internal now, he looked suddenly calm and confident, and angry, like he couldn't quite believe someone would dare shoot Dean or rather, another person in general. Cas ,apparently, could look pretty scary when he wanted too.

"Go ahead, s'not like I'm gonna stop you." Dean shut his eyes, letting out a deep sigh of pain that seemed all the worse now he'd acknowledged it. He was fucked, he'd been shot in the freakin' lower leg. How the _hell_ was he meant to run away from the undead, when he could barely walk.

"We need to move – _Quickly_." Castiel had a knife in his hand. It wasn't the one Dean constantly saw him with, but rather one of Dean's own. He sliced through the blood stained material of the lower leg of Dean's jeans, the tearing sound loud to Dean's ears. Cas tore a relatively long strip of the bloody material away.

His face was grim as he surveyed the wound, and pressed his fingers lightly to the injured area. Dean jerked away from the strangely intense burning sensation that came with the touch, only for Castiel to shoot him an impatient look. He grumbled a quiet sorry. When Castiel's fingers returned, putting much needed pressure onto the wound, the pain was bad, but bearable. "The wound, it...the bullet went straight through. I just need to..."

Castiel fumbled through Dean's bag as he was speaking (Rambling really), grabbing the only bottle of fresh water Dean had left, letting the water run over the wound in an attempt to clean it. "I need to bandage it and then we need to get out of here I can't do anything more for your leg, without a hospital or better facilities...I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. Hell, I know the drill Cas, if infection doesn't kill me then something else will. Also? Take a breath between words. It might help." Dean let out a half laugh of bitter amusement. "You need to get out of here before bullet boy decides to come over and finish the job"

"Don't be ridiculous Dean, I'm not leaving you behind." Castiel seemed to be looking for something in Dean's bag before his eyes lit up in realisation, and the next thing Dean knew, there was a chunk of material missing from an unused shirt he'd been carrying with him, and the said chunk was wrapped tightly round his leg. Dean raised an eyebrow slightly and Castiel explained quickly. A weak smile cut across the other man's face. "It's the cleanest thing we have, and I wouldn't worry about...bullet boy, they're being too loud. _Listen_."

Dean did listen, for the second time that day, and with the lack of gunshots he could hear yelling and a familiar rattling groan. If he listened hard enough the drag of clumsy feet over tarmac was almost audible. There was still no shooting, and Dean thought, half-heartedly, that it would serve them right if they were out of bullets.

"Well then, if you're sticking with me, give me a damn hand, because I sure as hell don't want to be here when the_ things_ notice the jeeps aren't the only target around." Dean started pulling himself into a standing position, using the cars for support as he gritted his teeth against the pain. Cas was by his side in seconds, arm a warm weight wrapping around his waist, and Castiel's other hand holding Dean's arm tightly over his shoulders.

It was comforting, the way Castiel didn't even hesitate to help, didn't need to think about it when it came to getting away safely on his own or dragging Dean with him, giving the undead a longer window of opportunity to catch up. He glanced over to the jeep. The infected were shambling from houses and out of the city swarming in on the people. There were grown men screaming and crying.

Cas started off into the maze of houses in the opposite direction, supporting Dean's weight as the other man hopped beside him, letting out the occasional muted hiss of pain. Just like in the original plan, they didn't look back again.

xxXxx

Castiel gave one final twist with the lock pick and the door clicked open. He gave a small smile at the tiny success, before standing, brushing the dust and dirt from his trousers. Dean matched Castiel's smile, even though his was weaker. Dean's face was pale under the dirt and gore, and his hands shaking. The blood loss (Along with the large amount of pain that came from being shot, even with the smallest calibre of rifle) obviously having some effect, which made Castiel all the more eager to get somewhere relatively safe.

"The house might not be secure. It would be better if I scouted it out first-" Castiel was cut off by Dean, whose face twisted into an annoyed grimace as he tried, with limited success, to shove himself away from the wall he had been supporting most of his weight on.

"Fuck that Cas, it's just as dangerous out here as it will be in there." Dean had a certain look in his eye, and Castiel sighed. He had a feeling the other man would not take no for an answer.

"Fine. Just be careful, you're injured badly enough as it is." Castiel grabbed Dean's arm, and helped the other man hobble inside, ignoring his quiet, protesting grunt of 'I'll be fine.' Castiel glanced quickly at the surroundings, noting that all the curtains were shut, in an obvious attempt to hide the inside from dead or curious eyes, blocking out large amounts of light, and creating eerie shadows in the darker corners of the house.

"Wait here." Castiel helped Dean to sit, slumped slightly against the wall, not taking note of the other man's protests, and instead grabbing Dean's backpack, rustling inside for what he wanted. He wrapped his fingers around the cold handle of the gun, and gave Dean a questioning look. Dean looked reluctant, but nodded anyway.

Castiel was quiet as he moved into the living room of the house, carefully checking each corner and shadow as he went. The light that streamed through the gaps in the curtains caught the dust that spiralled through the air, parting for Cas as he broke the stream of sunlight. The house was eerily quiet.

As he walked through the kitchen, something caught his eye. A dark smear was spread across the floor, the catch of bloody fingerprints on the white marble work surface. He froze, bringing his gun up – To state the obvious, something bad had happened here. He knew he should just leave, it would be entirely more sensible, but he wasn't sure how much further Dean could go. He desperately wanted to check the wound, even though he knew what he would find...

He followed the smears and the blood splattering into the room adjoining the kitchen, and then froze, as he found himself in a sunroom, the glass letting the sunlight filter through, creating a bright and almost _happy _effect. It would have been near normal if not for the smashed furniture and the blood. The back door was hanging off its hinges, glass panels shattered the slithers of glass glinting on the floor. There wasn't any sign of the person that once lived there.

He sighed, shutting the door to the sunroom, and using chairs from the dining room to make a makeshift barricade before rushing back to the hallway. At least the dead weren't still here...

It didn't take Castiel long to check the upstairs, and he was finally beginning to let his guard down when he heard a crash from downstairs. He moved as fast as he could, but Dean was gone when he got back to the hallway. Castiel blinked in surprise, panic welling up inside of him.

"Dean?" He said quietly, a feeling of apprehension and fear slowly forming; surely if Dean had been hurt he would have-

"In here, damn lamp attacked me..." Dean let out a muffled groan, and then there was the sound of shuffling and the creak of springs, presumably Dean collapsing onto the sofa. Castiel let out a sigh of relief, and then rolled his eyes. He _would _get stuck with a stubborn idiot with no concern for his own health, that was just his luck. Not that he would want to travel with anyone else – Dean was surprisingly good company, and more of a friend then Castiel had had in a long time...

He was right about Dean and the sofa, the man was stretched out, half sitting and half laying across it, an arm draped over his eyes. The lamp in question was shattered on the floor. It thankfully hadn't been too loud a crash, or they would have probably had to leave. Cas had checked all the doors and windows, and he now had at least a basic idea of where to go if the Infected found them.

"How's your leg?" Castiel's eyes were drawn to the tear in Dean's jeans and the makeshift bandage that was already saturated with blood.

"How the hell do you think it is?" Dean snapped back, before taking his arm away from his eyes and shooting Castiel an apologetic look. "Sorry, I'm just pissed. All this time worrying about the Infected, and it's a gun that kills me? I swear, zombies I get, but _people_..."

"Dean, don't be ridiculous, you are _not_ dead, and I do not plan on letting you die. You'll be fine." Castiel started shuffling round the room, noting that there was a fireplace in the room, with little ornaments adorning the mantel - Two delicately carved horses and a small, ornate mirror.

It didn't take more than a few seconds of considering the possible outcomes before Castiel decided that the fireplace could be extremely useful. He could use the heat from the flames to cauterize the wound. It would be far better than leaving it untended too. It wasn't hard to imagine what effect that would have.

"What are you doing?" Dean lifted his head slightly to watch Castiel move round the room, hunting through draws and cabinets. Eyes widening, Dean realized exactly what Cas was doing when he pulled out the box of large matches from the former's bag. There weren't many left, and so they rattled noisily around in the box.

Glancing back over his shoulder, Castiel kneeled down by the fire.

"Your wound needs to be sealed. It wouldn't be a good idea to wait for it to happen naturally, there's a chance you would bleed out, and I for one, do not have the medical experience or expertise to deal with that." He struck a match over the side of the box, watching the two surfaces collide, creating a spark and then bursting into a small, warm flame. "And of course even stitched shut, the wound would still be open to infection from the undead, which is something we cannot risk."

"Whoa, now wait just a second, no _way_ are you lighting that thing. The smokes gonna be like a beacon to anyone nearby..." Dean shoved himself up into a sitting position, looking ready to throw himself across the room and stop Cas himself if he had to. Castiel took a deep breath to calm himself, as he realised that the idiot was infuriating, but also right. He blew lightly on the match, watching the flame extinguish, a pathetic trail of smoke floating away. But still...

"Dean, we don't' have much of a choice." Castiel replied. Dean's face said everything.

"Not happening Cas. I swear, don't make me hobble over there and stop you myself, because I will." Dean kept his eyes locked on Castiel's expression hard and threatening. It lasted for what seemed like minutes before Castiel sighed nodding sharply, frustration etched into his features.

"Fine" Cas stormed across the room, aware that it was somewhat of an overreaction but he was stupidly annoyed and _worried_. He knew that he was lucky to have found Dean, seemingly the only other sane survivor left, and to face the prospect of having him die so soon after they had met, so soon after Castiel's own brother had... Well. It hadn't put him into a good mood to say the least. "At least let me take a _look_ at it."

"Go ahead, nothing stopping you." Dean gestured at his leg, and Cas found himself shoving Dean around on the couch so he could get better access to the wound, careful not to knock his leg before he carefully unwound the blood soaked, make shift bandage. Dean winced, but didn't pull away. Castiel had a feeling that Dean wasn't the sort who would complain about pain - He'd just put up with it until it was too much to handle.

He peeled the once white material slowly away from Dean's skin, and then paused slightly. He could see the wound relatively clearly but...no. That just – That wasn't possible. The injury had not only stopped bleeding, but the skin at the edges seemed to be healing slightly. Not enough to make much of a difference, but enough to be noticeable.

Not that Castiel was complaining, that was fantastic, but highly _wrong_ too. It didn't make any logical or medical sense... And Dean had, by now, noticed Castiel's silence, his face getting a shade paler, if that were possible.

"How... That bad huh?" Dean swallowed, trying to get a better look himself.

"What? No, no, not at all. If anything it seems your leg has... Started to heal – _Rapidly_, at that." Castiel shot Dean a small, confused smile, running his fingers gently around the edges of the gunshot wound.

"That's impossible." Dean said simply, raising an eyebrow at Cas. Castiel nodded slightly obviously still intrigued.

"I know."

**End of Part 4.**

**A/N2:** Hurm. Part 4 is here. I'm not sure about this part... It just isn't... Well. Please review, constructive criticism is always welcome! This one tried to kill me (and Dean)... And I'm sorry if you've waited a while and are disappointed, I really did try! I'm already writing chapter 5, and it looks to be better so hang on in there!


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Why hello there reader! Look another chapter! Sorry it's late and I hope you enjoy it! Once again, slashy undertones and a gruesome violence and swearing.**

**Chapter 5.**

The earth was dusty and dry beneath their feet as they made their way through the poor excuse of a town, just a few dead farms stretching out around them. It had been a while since they'd left the city behind, left the hoards to starve amongst the cold metal structures of a long lost world.

Dean watched the dust kick up every time his foot hit the ground a little too hard, the limp he'd developed still irritating him, something new and alien. It had been six days since he'd been shot, they'd been travelling ever since, and there wasn't really any injury left, but that didn't mean there wasn't still some damage done.

He and Cas both knew it wasn't right, it just wasn't possible for it to have healed so quickly, but it went unspoken, it was better not to question something like a quickly healing injury, he was just grateful he could _walk_. He lifted a hand to wipe the sweat of his brow, the sun beating down on slightly tanned skin a, a small serious frown etched into his face, he was trying not to think about the injury too much.

Castiel was observing the surrounding area with a hawk like gaze, blue eyes sharp and focused, icy pools in the heat. Dean let his eyes run down Castiel's lean body, the white-grey shirt the other man was wearing was clinging to his skin, showing off the sharp line of his back and the slight curve of his spine, Dean tugged his gaze away , the heat was making him dizzy and his mind was wandering slightly. They should find some shade, and they needed water, there wasn't much left.

He took a swig from the plastic bottle clutched tightly in his hand, before screwing the top back on and throwing it back in his bag, it was best to save it for later.

"It seems so empty here." Castiel said quietly. He looked sad and Dean couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking, probably about better times, Dean's mind sometimes took him back to the past too, it was an easy thing to let happen, harder still to stop once the memories started pouring back.

A washing line was hanging in one of the gardens, a lonely string in the dust, clothes still attached, a sign of something that just wasn't here anymore; you could almost imagine there were people just out of view living their lives but the stillness, the _silence_, was a clear enough signal that the village was just as dead as everywhere else.

"We should probably check some of the houses, we could find something useful." Dean's voice sounded too loud after being quiet for so long. Castiel nodded, glancing back at Dean.

"It would be a good idea." Castiel started to walk towards the house with the washing line and Dean sped up his pace to catch up with him. "I don't think there's anything left here, living or otherwise."

The first thing that hit him when they entered the house was the overpowering stench. Flies were swarming around the table and the corner of the room, Dean swore, covering his nose and mouth with his arm. Castiel seemed to get a shade paler swallowing and taking a step backwards.

Dean on the other hand moved further into the house swatting the flies away, the smell of rotting flesh and something else, something sickly sweet, clogging his nostrils. He snorted with bitter amusement at what was on the table, before pushing the plate towards Cas.

"Pie, Cas?" He said, voice muffled slightly by the arm over the lower half of his face. His companion rolled his eyes.

"You're disgusting." Cas stared at the barely recognisable food face twisted into a grimace, he was hanging back by the door, unwilling to step further into the house where the smell got worse.

"Aw, you love it really." Dean said with a sort of morbid amusement, before strolling around to the other side of the table. The flies cleared from the object that was sat there, the body was almost completely rotted away, the flies making a good job of it, Dean gagged, averting his gaze. His mood instantly serious again, any amusement died almost immediately at the sight. He supposed he was just glad it wasn't anything living, well, living-dead anyway.

Castiel stood at the doorway, he saw Dean's face change and sighed looking away, he looked, a tight angry expression on his face, but then Dean was angry too really, they always found dead bodies, they were never in time to find something living. There was no escaping the harsh reality of the world they lived in, and maybe that was a good thing.

The rest of their search was uneventful, and Dean was beginning to think they weren't going to find anything. The food had already been scavenged or gone off, and the clothes on the washing line were practically falling apart after being exposed to the elements for who knows how long, probably why the things were still there.

Dean and Cas emerged from the front door of the house and back onto the street, the sun finally beginning to relent, the heat losing its edge. Dean turned to say they should probably move on, or find somewhere to rest, when a noise caught his attention. He focused on the noise, mild surprise flooding him, it was a sniffling sad sound accompanied by the occasional gulp of breath Dean recognised as someone crying, someone who was trying to keep quiet.

He gestured for Cas to follow him, though Cas had obviously noticed too, not much escaped Castiel's attention, Dean was quickly beginning to realise this. The road turned off to follow down the side of the houses, and a young girl was shuffling about in her nightclothes looking lost, tears streaming down her face, just wondering along the middle of the dusty road.

"Hey." Dean moved towards her, but Cas held him back face serious, the girl's head snapped round, eyes widening with shock, probably just as surprised to see living people as they were. Dean was sort of impressed when she turned to run, sensible really, and at her reaction Castiel seemed to relax, managing to grab her shoulder, gently so as not to hurt the girl.

"Be still, we won't hurt you." Castiel said quietly. The girl still looked terrified. Castiel sighed asking the next most relevant question. "Are your parents nearby?"

It seemed likely a child her age wouldn't have survived without help, so her parents either died recently, or were hiding. She pointed towards one of the houses, her hair falling to frame her face, a tangled mess falling across her eyes. Castiel nodded. "Don't be afraid, I promise we won't harm you, I'll be back in a minute." Cas shot Dean a serious look, eyes dark. "Look after her."

He let go of the girl looking pointedly at Dean for the last few words of the sentence, then disappeared across the dry ground and into the house. The girl turned to look at Dean, her blonde hair hanging knotted and dirty round her face. He could tell she was in fight or flight mode, her eyes darting round looking for an escape route, strange men approaching a little girl on the street, yeah, he could see why, that was pretty damn scary.

"Hey, hey, you heard him, we're not gonna hurt you." Dean crouched down to her height. "My names Dean, the guy who I'm with is Cas, I know he seems a little scary but he's fine, really. God knows even I'm a little scared of him sometimes."

The girl must be beyond terrified, Dean would hate to be her in these circumstances, a child in a world of death and violence, probably alone and damaged.

"Do you wanna tell me your name." He asked, keeping his tone gentle. She shook her head violently. Castiel re-emerged from the rundown house Dean shot him a questioning look, and Castiel just shook his head slowly, he looked...he looked like he had just found another body and he probably had. Dean sighed. "Look me and Cas, we're gonna look after you ok, we can keep you safe, but you've got to trust us."

She didn't reply, she just seemed to shrink in on herself more. Castiel was watching, a curious expression on his face, unused to Dean showing such caring emotions.

"Hey look, just stick close ok, I know it's scary, trust me I do, but everyone gets scared sometimes, and right now you have to follow me and Cas." Dean let the words roll of his tongue, he'd looked after Sam a lot when they were younger and he knew how to deal with kids, sort of anyway, he liked to think he was ok with kids . They hadn't exactly had the best childhood and Sammy used to have a lot of nightmares. He knew how to keep kids calm he supposed, but then once again having two strange men walk up to you after your parents had just been eaten probably wasn't the most comforting thing in the world...

The girl looked at Cas and then Dean again and then she gave a small tentative nod, still wary of the them, and Dean supposed that was probably a good thing, it was better to be ready to run then put total trust into strangers, it was inconvenient too though. "Just stay put for a second okay, you can run if you want, I won't stop you but then you have to know that those things are out there, and you're gonna have to look after yourself."

Standing up Dean turned to Cas.

"We should find somewhere to stay the night, it's getting late." The boiling hot sun was losing its edge slowly slipping down the steep blue wall of the sky leaving a snail trail of tinted orange.

"We should choose one of the other homes." Castiel's gaze dropped to the girl who was just staring absently into the distance, she hadn't run, that was something. His voice dropped to a whisper. "I don't think she's infected, her parents were shot, albeit in the head but it was probably the work of other humans, scavengers stealing supplies."

"Son of a bitch." Fucking human beings...Although...Infected? The thought hadn't even crossed his mind, shit of course that should have been one of the first things he should have checked, should have asked even if she probably would have lied, and hell there wasn't really anyway to find out after all there wasn't any blood on her clothes so he supposed he'd just assumed...but Jesus, acting like he had was a sure-fire way to get killed, you didn't just approach people anymore and you didn't just assume...

"Still." Castiel continued, his eyes continuously flickering over to the girl, who was shivering slightly even in the heat, it was probably shock, but if there was one thing the two men had learnt it was that in this world of blood and zombies you could never be too careful. "If we are taking her with us it would be best to keep an eye on her for any signs of the disease..."

"Yeah, fuck, it sucks though, kid that age shouldn't be caught in this." Dean agreed, his expression a conflicted one.

"I know. Unfortunately though, we are all caught in this." Castiel sighed before running a hand through his hair. He looked tired; Dean knew exactly how he felt. "We should go."

"Yeah we should." Dean turned to the girl. "Come on kid, we have to get going before dark. Just follow me and Cas, we'll keep you safe."

The girl nodded, brown eyes dull, she was still sniffling, occasionally bringing her sleeve up to wipe at her face. Dean sighed, following Cas, who was walking, seemingly aimlessly, down the road. They would probably hole up in one of the houses nearer the outskirts of the town or village or whatever. Cas was normally pretty good at choosing safe places, tonight wouldn't be an exception.

xxXxx

Cas and Dean were sitting together, the girl was in another room, just in case she turned, and also because Dean had guessed she probably didn't want to be stuck in a room with them...

Castiel was just drifting off, and Dean was poking at his leg wound, the nasty red mark that was still raw and bright against the paler skin, checking it for signs of anything, well, weird really. His eyes occasionally flickered over to his companion. He worried about Cas sometimes, he really didn't know why, the guy was perfectly capable of looking after himself and-

The girls screams pulled him out of his thoughts, and he immediately tried to get up, wincing as his leg complained at the sudden movement, the wound shooting pain through the muscles. Cas on the other hand was already out of the room. Dean cursed, grabbing his gun from his bag and stumbling out into the hallway, they shouldn't have left her alone. The shadows seemed to darken around him, swarming in clawing at him; his fucking leg would play up now.

He moved as quickly as he could, slamming through into the room the girl had been in. Castiel was frozen in the doorway; the girl was hunched over whimpering quietly to herself, her hair dark in the low light, her form small and ominous. Castiel moved forwards and Dean moved with him.

"Cas wait..." Dean didn't like this at all, why had she been screaming if she hadn't been attacked, and the noise would have attracted any of the dead nearby towards them, so now they had to move anyway...

"It's fine Dean." Castiel was looking at the girl, a slightly concerned, upset expression on his face. Dean swallowed, Castiel continued. "What's wrong, Rebecca?"

Dean blinked at the name, when had the girl told them, he didn't remember but then maybe she had talked to Cas more, she seemed sort of...calmer around him.

"Cas this isn't a good idea." Dean wanted to yell when Cas made a vague shooing gesture and moved closer to the girl, who's head snapped round half way, still drenched in darkness. He knew what was wrong...He just knew, in his gut he knew.

"It hurts." She whimpered, voice shaky from tears. "Why won't it stop hurting?"

"What's hurting Rebecca?" Castiel took a cautious step closer.

"Everything." She hissed, her voice took on a different, more violent tone and Cas froze.

"When your parents were attacked, were you hurt too Rebecca, did something..." Castiel trailed of and she shifted, her hair falling to cover her face, Dean Felt like he was in some badly made horror film, the scene was so surreal.

He reached slowly for his gun, fingers closing round the handle; he didn't want to hurt her but if he had too...

"It's all your fault, they came and they hurt my parents and one of them went funny, he attacked his friends and he- he..." She paused shuddering violently, a coughing fit tearing through her, and this time Castiel was already retreating. "If people like you hadn't come we would have been ok, it's all your fault."

The girl fell silent, shaking violently.

"Dean I think we should-"

Dean barely saw her move, he'd never seen one of the infected move that fast, not even in the initial stages, not even when they were still living, when they were just insane, just violent and vicious. Maybe because she was a child the virus was strengthened or something similarly creepy. Either way, one minute Cas was talking, the next he had an armful of an angry infected child.

"Cas!" He moved forwards swinging his gun up but Castiel was blocking his shot, the little girl was clinging to him, wailing and tearing at him. Dean lunged forwards trying to pull her off Cas who was holding her face as far away from himself as he could.

Her eyes were still deep brown but in the low light they looked black and demonic, totally inhuman, it made Dean shudder because really the creature _wasn't _human anymore. Castiel shoved her off and she fell, stumbling back across the room, Dean managed to fire of a shot but she'd charged again already and it missed her by millimetres, the dark making it impossible to aim. It didn't even phase her, her small fingers closed around Castiel's shirt sleeve and Castiel's other arm swung round to push her away.

Dean swore once again, trying to help. The angle meant he couldn't see what happened next but Castiel yelped, the girl practically flew back across the room and Dean was surprised by the amount of strength in the push. Castiel grabbed something from the side table next to the bed in the room, it looked large and heavy from the silhouette and Dean watched with an almost detached disgust as Cas bought it down into the hissing girls skull.

Blood sprayed upwards and Dean winced. It was a kid for fucks sake, a dead one sure but- fuck.

He stared at the girls twitching form before letting out a shaky, relieved breath. At least it was over now.

"I- fuck she seemed...fuck." He shook his head. "You okay Cas?"

He turned to face the other man and faltered. Castiel was holding his arm to his chest, staring fixatedly at something. There was a tear in the sleeve of his shirt and Dean's stomach lurched, no way, no goddamn way could this be happening, maybe it was just a tear from when she'd been scratching at Cas. This could not get any worse.

Something dark was soaking into the lighter shirt material and Castiel made a small shocked noise, bringing his fingers to it, before looking at Dean.

"I- I, when she attacked again she managed to bite me I-" Castiel was shaking, and despite everything, after the gunmen, the concussion and the chase by zombie hoards, the last thing Dean expected to see was true fear on Castiel's face. It barely registered with him when Cas spoke again. "She seemed so healthy, the symptoms were so mild. I thought she might just be ill"

Dean swallowed, watching Castiel's fingers where they were clamped over the bite wound, even if it was too dark to really see. The other mans eyes were glinting in the light that was filtering through the thin curtains and they looked so...lost. Dean was a little lost too. Cas was the only friend he'd had in a long time, and now he was going to die.

Castiel took a few steps closer till he was right up in Deans personal space and Dean opened his mouth to question what Cas was doing when warm fingers, damp with blood, closed round the hand that was still holding tightly onto the gun. The other man was looking directly into Dean's eyes.

"Dean. I think you should go now; I'd rather you didn't have to watch. I don't think I could, not if you were right there." Castiel's voice was its usual all business tone but there was something more to it, an undertone of disbelief and shock and...something else Dean couldn't place. Castiel's hand was warm against his own, and just for a second he didn't want to move it. Everything was totally still, silent apart from their breathing. And then Dean jerked back, away from Cas who seemed to snap out of the trance that had fallen over them.

"Dean what are you doing?"

"No way Cas, there is no way I'm letting you kill yourself, you said there was a cure right?" Dean said, voice edged with desperation.

"Dean..." Cas started but Dean shook his head.

"If we speed up then we could get there in time, this isn't the end Cas, you are not dying on me" Dean pressed his mouth tightly shut, trying to keep his emotions in check, before trying again, voice slow and dangerous. "We have to try at least, and if you turn I'll...We have to try."

"I'm sorry." Castiel seemed so genuine when he said it, like he'd already accepted his fate.

"Don't be sorry until you're actually dead." Dean replied, fingers holding the gun in a death grip, knuckles pale. He wouldn't let Cas die.

**End of part 5.**

A/N2: Epic Cliff hanger is epic. Anyway, hopefully you're enjoying the story; the next part should be up soon. Thank you to everyone who's reviewed so far, and to anyone who's still reading! I wasn't at _all_ sure about this chapter, I'm still not, but alas I'll have to wait to see the comments to see if it's awful...

For those of you who are wondering about a large amount of misplaced commas that have suddenly appeared, my Beta-reader ran away, and I have to do it myself...me and Grammar are not good friends...


	6. Chapter 6

**Why yes I did go back and edit this chapter, it hasn't really helped much, Sorry for the long wait, chapter 7 + Epilogue will be up by the weekend. **

"No." Dean's voice was little more than a rough growl. He couldn't handle this crap right now, he'd thought he had _finally_ found someone who wasn't going to disappear or die or do something stupid but no, Cas had gone and gotten himself bitten. Stupid freaking goddamn undead apocalypse.

"It's only for the best, Dean." Castiel's looked tired, the blue hues of his eyes dull in the low light, Dean was starting to seriously worry about finding somewhere to camp out – he wasn't sure Cas could make it much further. His condition has been steadily deteriorating as they'd moved through the dust and cool morning air of the desert, the guy looked like he might drop at any second. He'd been trying to make Dean 'see sense' multiple times during the night, but Dean just couldn't. Cas wanted Dean to kill him, or at least let him...and that... not yet, not until there weren't any other options.

"Dude, shut the fuck up." He looked up at Cas, the other man was pale and shaky, the virus already working its way deep into his system. Castiel was playing with the rough bandages wrapped round his arm, a sprinkling of dark blood seeping through the grey material. Dean could see it now the sun was starting to rise lazily into the sky, peeking up over the horizon shedding rays of gold over the dirt. Dean was trying hard not to think of what was under those bandages, a bloody circle of teeth marks that signalled the end for Cas.

"Dean- " Castiel sighed dropping his hand from his arm, his fingers curling into a fist. Dean cut him off.

"No Cas, this is what? The five hundredth time you've asked and my answer isn't gonna be any different." He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration more than anything else. "Just because you made yourself zombie chow doesn't mean we can't fix it. You said there was a cure right? Well then we'll find it, there isn't any other option Cas, period."

"That's not really going to be an option if I'm already dead Dean." Castiel shook his head, Dean was quite possibly one of the most infuriatingly stubborn people he had ever met and it was going to be the death of him. "It is not worth getting killed just because you were too stupid to pull the trigger."

"If it comes to that then trust me Cas, I won't hesitate." Dean was stiff with tension, jaw clenched to stop himself from shouting and alerting anything nearby to their presence. There had been enough trouble for one night, and Dean really didn't want to face any more.

They walked on for a short while, the silence stretching out between them, heavy with unspoken words, almost a touchable presence. Dean wasn't entirely sure why he was so attached to Cas, what made Cas so important. He knew the rules, if someone got bitten you pulled the trigger, it wasn't all that hard to understand and there weren't any other options.

Maybe it's because the thought of killing someone he cared about again was just too much. The more he thought about it the more he realised he did care about Cas, and that had to be it. He cared about his friend and losing someone else would undoubtedly snap whatever shred of sanity that kept him from walking right into the city and throwing himself to the hoards.

Castiel keeled over suddenly, a look of pained surprise on his face as he clutched at his chest, violent coughs shaking his body, splatters of blood splashing onto the ground, dark stains in the dirt. His whole body shook and Dean was by his side in a second hand on Cas's shoulder. A moan of pain slipped past Castiel's dry lips, his eyes shut tightly against the onslaught before it stopped almost as suddenly as it began.

"Jesus, Cas, you ok?" Dean temporarily forgot his anger and chose instead to make sure Cas wasn't dying on him. He dropped to his knees, the ground hard, a rock or some sticky out piece of plant digging in sharply. Castiel nodded, small aftershocks of pain still making him shiver, even as the sun's warm rays covered him. Dean could see him properly now, and his skin was horribly pale, deathly pale.

"Hey, give me your hand." Cas did so, and Dean could feel it trembling in his grip as he manoeuvred Castiel's arm to rest over his shoulder, trying his best to stand up while supporting both their weights. Castiel winced with the effort and Dean swallowed. The virus always struck fast, that was how it worked; some people could go from fine to dead in just hours, with some people it took days.

Castiel pulled his arm out of Dean's grip once they were standing and Dean guessed it was because he didn't want to be that close to someone else if he turned. Idiot, he couldn't support his god damn self in this state, surely Cas realised it was better to...

Something caught his eye, a trail of crimson bright and shiny on Castiel's bottom lip, anger surged through Dean and suddenly he wanted to reach up and wipe away any trace of the virus from Cas, any hint of what he knew was going to happen, so he did, his thumb brushing lightly over the soft skin, almost tenderly. Castiel blinked in surprise, blue eyes widening in shock and he opened his mouth to say something. Dean shook his head.

"Leave it, I don't want to hear it Cas, you're my friend, it won't come to that, I don't let friends die easy." Dean turned away and scanned the horizon, the only landmark he could make out the silhouette of some sort of farm in the distance, the heat shimmering around it making it look like some sort of mirage – an oasis - in the distance.

Castiel was still staring at him with that heavy unblinking gaze that never failed to freak Dean out, his head tilted, analysing.

"We should head towards –" Neither of them saw it coming, Castiel too ill and too focused on Dean and Dean too stuck in his own head to pay any attention, the creature attacked from behind, it's body a cool lump flesh slamming into him at full force, sending both him and the undead spiralling to the ground, It's hands clutched tightly onto his bag, trying to drag itself up to get at skin, to tear flesh.

It opened its mouth to bite into Dean's arm, teeth sliding over it, not breaking skin; he knocked it away snatching his arm out of its grasp.

Dean yelled kicking out with his feet, trying to turn round to face the Damn thing. Castiel was already there trying to pull it off, but it wasn't paying much attention to him, it's rotting fingers unrelenting, it did give Dean enough room to spin round, keeping his bag between himself and the creature, slamming his feet up directly into its chest.

There was a sickening crunch and something warm and wet sprayed out onto Dean's legs, Dean gagged at the stench trying to dislodge the thing, unhooking the bag from where it was slung over his shoulder, using it as a way to shove the monsters gnashing jaws away from anything it could bite.

"Cas! Little help." He threw the bag hard, the creature going with it as Dean scrambled to his feet. It rasped, a gurgling empty sound that chilled him to the bone, its sun crisp skin peeling and cracked, vocal chords damaged by the intense heat.

"Dean I don't –" Castiel's eyes were wide and panicked, he was looking about frantically for a way to help and it dawned on Dean that he'd taken all weapons away from Cas so he couldn't do anything stupid. That was the worst decision he had made in a long time, everyone needed a way to protect themselves...

"Damnit." He fumbled with the gun that was sat snugly in his thigh holster, far easier access then if it had been shoved in his bag, which was currently in the hands of a zombie so rotten it was struggling to get to its feet on weak muscles. It lunged and Dean took a step backwards narrowly avoiding it's grasp.

He aimed the gun carefully, painfully aware he only had a couple of bullets left, not really wanting to use one at all when they were in the middle of nowhere with no cover, but he didn't have much of a choice. The Creatures head exploded outwards spraying grey, brownish-black gunk everywhere, fragments of skull falling to the earth.

The gunshot rang out loudly, filling the desert with noise.

"Christ." Dean swallowed, trying to catch his breath. "Where the hell did that thing come from?"

"I don't...maybe the town; it would make sense that the girl wasn't the only person left there." Castiel looked deeply troubled. "It probably followed us."

"Makes sense, whoa that was close." Dean gave a shaky grin, his voice probably just as bad, the adrenaline still pumping through his veins, heart pounding. " We should check out that farmhouse ahead, maybe get some cover before more of those things arrive."

"Dude, remind me to pay more attention in future." He let out a stuttered breath of relief looking at Cas properly again now, and he was slightly taken aback, Castiel looked like he was about to collapse, and there was definitely the faintest trace of pain in his expression. They had a relatively long walk ahead and Dean had a crushing feeling Cas wouldn't make it.

He retrieved his bag from the skeletal fingers still clinging to it, making a face at the gore staining its canvas green surface before throwing it over his left shoulder, and then, not giving Cas much time to protest, he grabbed the skinnier mans arm, slinging it over his shoulder, wrapping his own free arm round Castiel's waist.

Cas struggled slightly before giving up, Dean was pretty sure it was more from exhaustion than anything else.

"Sorry Cas but I can't have you passing out in the middle of the desert." Dean winced at the force of Castiel's glare as he remained stubbornly silent.

It was going to be a very long walk.

xxXxx

The farmhouse looked relatively normal from the outside, no signs of forced entry, no gore marks from the dead trying to claw their way in and no shambling bodies in sight. Dean let himself relax slightly. He winced at the ache in his shoulder from carrying most of Cas's weight for such a long time, sure the guy wasn't heavy but he wasn't exactly light either.

There was a stench leaking from the direction of the barn as they passed it by, heavy and rotten, catching in the back of Dean's throat like a thick mist, leaving a sour taste in his mouth. He kept an eye on the barn doors, they looked sturdy enough, he really didn't want to see what was locked up behind them though, maybe dead livestock, maybe something worse.

He let Cas go when they reached the front door, mapping out the area carefully, there was a garage attached to the side of the house, the metal door bent outwards slightly, it's paint red and peeling.

The front door was unlocked, never a good sign, someone had obviously left in a hurry, which meant that just because the place looked safe it didn't mean it was, he pushed it open and it creaked on its hinges, nothing came darting, screeching, out into the hallway, mouth smothered with gore from its last victim. Always a good sign in Dean's books.

"Stay here, call if you need me." Dean helped Cas into the hallway and Castiel gave a small ill smile.

"De ja vu." Castiel's voice was hoarse and his eyes were hazy, and it made Dean swallow in sympathy.

"Tell me about it." Dean's laugh was a strained one. "At least neither of us have a gunshot wound this time huh?"

"Something like that." Castiel nodded weakly, before untangling himself from Dean, leaning heavily against the wall. He coughed lightly and Dean looked away a strange expression passing across his own face, something utterly helpless.

"Don't pass out on me man, I need an alert if anything comes too close yeah?" Dean shuffled with his bag, dropping it by Cas's feet with a light thump. Dean had a machete in his hand, good for decapitating things that liked to bite.

"I think it's more me you need to worry about biting you right now Dean." Castiel was staring at the bag like it was some sort of animal or trap or like maybe one of the undead was going to crawl out of it, past the dark, dried on splatter that covered it.

"Just keep an eye out." Dean kept his expression as closed off as possible. Castiel already knew his thoughts on that, and they didn't have time to argue about it, not now.

Dean followed the hallway to the first doorway, Castiel watching him go. He quickly scanned the rooms. There was a basement door, but it was locked tight and Dean didn't fancy opening it. Other than that there was little to see, the stairs had been destroyed, the wood jagged and splintered, but there were no signs of struggle, just some debris where someone had torn them down, most probably on purpose.

It meant he couldn't explore the upstairs without putting some serious effort into finding a way to get himself up onto the top floor, and right now he didn't have the time. At best he and Cas would only be staying in the house a few hours and he was going to keep watch the whole time, if something did come down the stairs he would see it.

He sighed trailing his fingers across the cool walls, tracing a slightly darker patch where a photo might have been. The house was bright and welcoming, almost alive. Almost. He tried the handle to the door leading to the garage, jiggling it slightly to see if it would budge, and something thumped hard into the other side of the door. He flung himself backwards, something clattered to the floor inside the garage. One of the infected?

It would explain why the family had to leave so fast. The door rattled on its hinges and Dean took a few steps back, considering his options, the door would give way eventually but it would be loud and it would take a while, he could break it down now, it didn't look like the lock was a strong one and the hinges were rusty and dull, but then he risked getting bitten if the thing took that chance to charge the door again.

"Dean?"

"Be there in a sec Cas, kinda busy here." Dean shut his eyes, clenching his teeth. He was going to have to break down the door, clearly, and now Cas needed his help, what if it was something important? Dean heard the latch of the front door clicking shut and he jumped, ready to fling himself away from the garage if the infected came charging through. Nothing happened. Godammit.

He took a couple of deep breaths, steadying himself, before kicking the door hard, it gave way almost instantly, the hinges creaking violently, swinging inwards, the dead creature inside rushed out almost instantly, charging out of the dark doorway, teeth bared and all together far faster than the one in the desert.

Dean moved out of the way and it slammed into the wall, hissing as it swung to face him, bloodshot eyes full of hunger, it moaned and Dean struck, the blade missed the skull and embedded itself in the infected shoulder. Dean tugged at the blade; it slid through the creatures flesh as it shoved itself forwards, oblivious to the pain. He angled the blade upwards, slicing partially through its neck as its fingers clawed at him.

He used the creatures own weight to fling it away from him, using the handle of the blade as leverage, letting it go. The Infected crashed into the wall, eyes bright and hungry. It growled, a low, guttural sound and Dean stumbled backwards as it kept coming, he looked around for another weapon but there was nothing. He was screwed, he fumbled to get his gun out of its holster as the undead advanced, his movements panicked.

He leapt out of his skin when a knife flew from over his right shoulder, blade smashing straight into the creatures forehead with a crunching rush slide of metal through bone and brain.

Dean blinked, stumbling out of the way as the undead fell forward, eyes lifeless and empty. It twitched, dragging itself over the floor before shuddering out one last rasping moan, falling still.

What the hell?

Spinning round Dean found himself looking at a very pale Castiel, who was using the wall for support, shaking badly.

"Dude, not that I'm not grateful but how the hell did you do that?" Dean swallowed; he was probably going to die from adrenaline overload before the day was over, although considering the other possibilities maybe that wasn't so bad. "You look like you can't see straight let alone aim."

"I- I don't know." Castiel's eyes were wild and unfocused, the fever beginning to take a stronger hold. Castiel shook his head like he was trying to clear his mind. "I think I – Dean I came to inform you that there are multiple undead in the front yard."

"What? How? Son of a-" Dean growled. "Stay away from the windows Cas...Do they know we're here?"

"No I don't think so, I think they just heard the noise but not where it was coming from, exactly." Castiel was frowning, blue eyes hazy and troubled. "I can't feel my...anything, I – everything hurts – there were a lot of them."

Eyes widening Dean rushed to Cas's side.

"Come on man don't you dare die on me Cas." He practically dragged Cas away from the wall into the living room, inwardly wincing. He couldn't put Cas on the couch, too visible to whatever was outside. "You gotta hang on ok? We've gotten this far."

"I don't – my back...Dean what are you doing?" Castiel seemed to notice his current predicament, and the fact he was leaning fully on Dean.

"Finding somewhere to put you, the last thing you need right now is to be standing up." Dean gave a faint grin before inwardly saying fuck it. They could sleep on the goddamn hallway floor. He had a thin rough woollen blanket with him but that was it, he could hunt round the house for pillows or blankets but he didn't want to risk going anywhere near a window till he could cover them up.

The undead were not known for their night vision so his best option was to wait till it was dark, shut the curtains and to move Cas onto something. He would let Cas move himself, but Dean had a feeling Cas would just collapse if he tried to stand up right now.

It was going to be a long wait till night fall. He helped Castiel sit against the wall, moving a strand of sweat soaked hair from his forehead.

"Hang in there ok?"

xxXxx

It was a long day, Dean wished they could have moved on, but with Cas in his current state it just wasn't possible. He'd spent most of his time keeping an eye on Cas or thinking of ways to block the doors and windows without the dead seeing it happen.

He tried the kitchen taps earlier, unsurprised to find they didn't work; the food in the fridge was old and rotting. There were a few cans in the cupboards but most of the food was off, or had been taken with the owners.

He'd ended up pouring the warm bottled water on a cloth, trying to cool Cas's fever as best he could using what resources he had, in his moments of coherency Castiel seemed to be mostly annoyed with himself for being an inconvenience, a thought process Dean couldn't stop but wished he could.

He stood up from where he'd been sitting by Cas, listening to his shallow breathing. Dean felt strangely drained; the dark shadows of the hallway thick and heavy on his mind, the silence letting him dwell too much on his own thoughts.

It was a painfully slow move into the living room, sliding along close to the wall; he risked a glance out of the window, there were forms moving around outside, stumbling dark shapes in the night. Apart from the occasional quiet rasp of the dead, muffled by the glass, all was silent, unnaturally so. There were quite a few, maybe not as many as Castiel had suggested but still a hell of a lot.

He ducked down below the window. He would say he was some fearless guy who didn't get worried because there were a few infected mulling about outside but goddamnit he was human and this was fucking awful, everything seemed so much worse when the only light available was the stars filtering down through thin clouds. If just one little movement caught their attention they would swarm the house.

Reaching up he grasped the thick material of the curtain in his hand, sliding it slowly across the window, blocking out the creatures outside. He made his way slowly round the inside of the house, making sure all windows were covered; he'd spent a lot of the day securing the entrances and exits so he was pretty sure they were as safe as they could be.

Castiel was quiet when Dean got back to the hallway, skin almost white in the darkness, eyes cast in shadow. Castiel was awake, or at least Dean was sure his eyes were open, the almost pitch black made it hard to tell.

"Hey, you alive there?" Dean crouched down and Castiel turned to face him, breath shaky, he didn't say anything, the movement barely noticeable. Dean couldn't help the shudder of fear that ran down his spine, the small tingle of nervousness that made him painfully aware of his surroundings. "Cas?"

Castiel mumbled something, and Dean relaxed slightly, relief washing over him. Cas was ok.

"I'm gonna get you somewhere more comfortable ok?" Dean moved forwards, fumbling in the dark to get Cas to his feet. It was too dark to see if Cas even acknowledged what he'd said, and he ended up half dragging Castiel to the couch, trying to ignore the quiet whimpers of pain. He would have left Cas where he was but sitting on a hard wood floor for a whole night probably wasn't the healthiest option.

He didn't have a clue what he was doing. That was the truth. Not a Freaking clue.

He stumbled on something on the way through the door, and he froze at the sound of shuffling on the porch outside, holding his breath. Something scraped against the door and then...nothing. Whatever it was had kept moving past.

It took him a few seconds before he could bring himself to move again and actually deem it safe. One of the main things bothering him was the fact Cas might start making noise, could attract them, and there was nothing he could do about it, he almost felt bad for thinking about it at all.

The pained sound Cas made as Dean lay him down on the couch made him wince. God what was he doing. He should have killed Cas when he'd had the chance, he knew what was going to happen, but he couldn't kill him, he just couldn't. He tried to make Cas comfortable, throwing the thin blanket over him.

There wasn't much else he could do, except keep watch for the Dead. He was sat to one side of the couch, leaning against the wall. The quiet crowded him, almost touchable, tense and coiling, waiting for something to break it. He let his eyes slide shut, keeping his ears open instead, listening for any hint of movement.

He snapped out of his half asleep state to the sound of screaming. Castiel was screaming. Dean stumbled to his feet eyes wide, watching his friend tumble to the floor, convulsing in pain, clawing at his own skin.

The undead were already at the windows, clawing to get in, their moans already overwhelming in volume. Crap, this was not good, not good at all. He dropped to Castiel's side laying a hand on his shoulder, the small action of comfort making Cas cry out, jerking away from the touch.

"Shit, Cas come on man, you have to be quiet, you have to shut up." Dean was panicking. The Glass wouldn't last long, soon the infected would be pouring in. His friend trembled in agony, making a sound that was barely human. "Come on Cas you can get through this but you have to stop making noise."

Somehow Dean expected nothing he could say would help and he clenched his fists as Castiel cried out again, he had to go now, he couldn't let himself get caught by the undead, but he couldn't take Cas with him which meant he would have too – He'd managed to put it off for this long but...

Castiel crawled onto his hands and knees, coughing violently, shuddering at the effort of any controlled movement, emptying his stomach content on the floor, before falling completely, utterly still.

Dean inched forwards, trying to ignore the dead thumping against the window.

"Cas?" No answer, of course there wasn't an answer. He pressed two fingers lightly to Castiel's pulse point, knowing exactly what to expect, when the world erupted into light, an ear piercing noise making Dean fall back, clamping his hands over his ears, two shapes erupted from Castiel's back splattering Dean's face with blood, the speckled pattern of crimson slowly sliding down his face as he clenched his eyes shut against the light.

It stopped almost as suddenly as it had begun; Dean heard a window shatter somewhere else in the house, his head was throbbing and his eyesight was still impaired from the brightness, he had the small itching suspicion in that he was having some sort of hallucination.

Castiel was still kneeling in front of him, shuddering, two limp looking things hanging from his back, the faint outline of feather and bony structures. What the fuck?

"Dean?" It took him a second to realise Cas was speaking. "I – Did I- I believe I just grew wings."

"So it's not just me seeing things then?" He hoped to god the shattered window wasn't one nearby because any second now they were gonna be neck deep in dead flesh. "I'm not sure if that's worse or better..."

"I...That is not possible." Cas reached up tentatively to touch the new limbs protruding from his shoulder blades, damp with blood.

"Well apparently it is, and who the hell cares, you're alive right? That's what matters." He lunged forward pulling Castiel to his feet. "But not for much longer if we stay here. We can talk about the wing thing later."

The window shattered behind him and something fell through. He grabbed Cas dragging him out into the hallway as the dead poured in, teeth bared, the sound of them impossibly loud. Castiel was limping along beside him and he wasn't goddamned fast enough.

The dead crashed into the hallway in droves, filing in quicker than Dean could count; where the hell were they all coming from? They were in the middle of fucking nowhere. He tripped over something on the floor, the body from the morning. He swerved dragging Castiel into the garage, using all he could to block the way in, the door hanging uselessly on its hinges.

He looked around for anything of use, any way to escape, they could escape through the garage door but if the swarm was directly outside they would get torn apart. There was a shape in the garage, a slim black shadow, glinting in the faint light. Dean froze. He pleaded with god that his eyes were not betraying him and that yes, that was a car, and a fucking awesome one at that.

He swung round to face Cas, green eyes wild with panic as the dead groaned so close by, their hunger practically loud enough to hear.

"Cas, You've gotta get ready to Drive, as soon as I open that door ok?" He just hoped the Car had fuel and if it did then he guessed their luck might have changed. The car was beautiful, and unlocked which was a miracle in itself. But considering the state of its previous owner...well yeah. That would probably explain it.

The dead were already pushing away the shoddy barricade, and Cas threw himself into the leather seat of the car, looking a little lost. The keys were in the ignition; Dean guessed the driver hadn't been that bothered about the car getting stolen considering the blood stains on the inside.

"Gun the engine and just drive, the minute you can, just drive, don't look back." Dean swallowed a loud crash signalling the barrier falling.

"I'm not leaving you behind Dean." Castiel looked fierce, suddenly, and Dean growled in frustration.

"I'll be fine Cas, now do as I goddamn say." He flung the cars passenger door open before sprinting to the garage door blocking their escape.

Castiel fumbled with the key for a second and twisted it in the ignition and the car roared into life, Dean pushing the garage door open just as the dead finally pushed their way in, the sheer weight of them splintering what was left of the inner door.

He saw the car picking up in speed as Cas hit the gas, driving forwards.

Dean ran, throwing himself through the open passenger door into the car seat, cool dead fingers tried to get a grip on him, ribs hitting the side of the car hard, the jolt of pain barely registering through the adrenaline rush.

Castiel didn't waste time, skidding out of the garage, sitting forwards in the seat awkwardly, trying to keep any weight off his back and the long bloody wounds that ran down it. Dean was half hanging out of the car, trying to get himself better into the seat.

"Cas stop the Car." They were far enough away, probably, and Cas couldn't drive when he could barely see out the window because he was leaning forward in such an awkward way to stop the majority of the pain.

"What-?"

"Cas!" Dean's glare was enough and Cas slammed on the brakes, throwing Dean against the dashboard. Deans head made contact with a thump, and there was a crack as his right side hit the edge of the door again. Something definitely broken he would guess.

He practically shoved Cas out of the other side of the car, crawling over into the driver's seat as Cas rushed round the front, climbing in through the passenger door, some of the infected, the runners, almost upon them already. Castiel was in, safe and Dean let out a breath of relief, hitting the accelerator, the car's tyres kicking up dust. He took one last glance at the infected falling into the distance behind them, they were partially safe, at least for now.

**TBC...**

A/N2: I apologize again for the wait but the chapters a little longer to make up for it. Real life has been keeping me busy... And this story is becoming painful to write, but I know where I'm going with it and I promise to finish it, and then you'll finally get some answers.

I would play a game of guess the car, but somehow I think everyone would win.

Blame Jezzworth for the wing thing, I wasn't sure whether I wanted to do it in case it put people off the story, but I'm glad I did write it.


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